


I'm the one you need for a dirty deed (I'm the best, success is guaranteed)

by VolxdoSioda



Series: FFXV/MHW [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV, Monster Hunter (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Sick Fic, graduation of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 13:44:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20359480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolxdoSioda/pseuds/VolxdoSioda
Summary: Following his slaying of the Queen Anjanath, Noctis falls sick.Cor takes the time to bash some heads in, remind everyone of their own ranks, and craft Noctis some decent armor out of his first real kill.





	I'm the one you need for a dirty deed (I'm the best, success is guaranteed)

Noctis can't recall a time he's ever seen Cor without his bone skull. Growing up, it was just something that was as normal as Ignis wearing glasses, or his Dad almost always in his King's attire, or a suit. Cor wore Hunter's armor, fit for a Hunter - and he hid his face behind the skull of the first creature he'd ever cut down.

Which is probably what makes it as alarming as Noctis feels it is when he wakes, half-woozy, his head pounding away and his stomach roiling, to find Cor on the opposite bed, quietly sharpening his sword, his helmet missing.

Noctis has seen bits of Cor's face behind the skull. He knows the man has scars all across the ridge of his nose, a couple on the bottom of his lip, a few on his eyebrows, and one on his chin. He knows those eyes are sightless, milky white. But he didn't know Cor's hair was as short as it is, or that most of it is a grey-silver in color, with only a few patches of pale brown left. 

He tries to croak out a question, or Cor's name. Something. But what comes out is a blast of air as hot as an Anjanath's breath, and as rough as a Nergigante's skin. He coughs, hacks, sputters, and his stomach decides enough is enough, and his dinner comes up a second time. He opens eyes he didn't think to close to find Cor holding him one-handed, a wastebasket in front of him as he helplessly coughs up the dinner of soft bread and soup the palico Chef had cooked for him personally.

_"Good for kittens with sore stomachs," _he'd teased with a gentle nudge of his paw, and Noctis had laughed and accepted the title with grace, because compared to everyone else in the Fifth, he _was _young. 

"Here. Drink, and then spit." A bottle of something is pressed against his lips. Barely able to hold his own head up at the moment, and disgusted with himself for the weakness, Noctis lets Cor feed him the drink in small sips, and does as his mentor orders. By the time his mouth is washed as best it will get, he's shivering hard in Cor's grip, sweating through his clothes and feels like Zorah Magdaros itself is pounding on his skull. 

Never has Noctis been so grateful that his uncle doesn't give two shits about things like royal blood or impropriety, as Cor lays him on the bed and deftly strips him of wet clothes. He curls up in a ball and shivers, unable to stop himself. Whatever he's caught, it's nasty, and he absolutely wishes he were unconscious enough to avoid having to deal with it. 

Cor hauls him upright after a moment, and dresses him in new boxers, shirt and pants that are too big on him. It takes Noctis plucking at the clothes, mutely wondering when he changed sizes that he realizes he's not in the dorms he shares with his fellow A-ranks. "Wher'm I?" he mutters as Cor lets him go, and he flops back against pillows that he now realize takes up an entire King bed all by itself.

"My private quarters. I had my Housekeeper move all your stuff in once the Commander let me know you'd fallen ill. It's best you stay secluded so you don't infect anyone else."

"N'you?"

"I'll be fine. I regularly drink Dragon's Fire; if anything you have manages to get past that, then I'll notify the research teams first, and then lock us both up in here until we're feeling better."

Noctis mumbles something to that, trying to kick away the blankets Cor has wrapped around him. Except the man comes over and leans over him, holding the blankets firm. "No, Noctis."

"Ngngnmmmhm!"

"I know. But the sooner you burn the fever out, the more comfortable you'll be. You just have to endure it."

He's kind of amazed Cor understood his noises, but Cor's always been good like that. Cor's good for a lot of things, most of which Noctis can't think of right now, because his head hurts too much. 

As tired and unhappy as he is, the cold press of Cor's hands against his temple feels like heaven. So do the fingers that card through his messy locks, bringing little tingles of pleasure against his scalp. 

"Get some rest," Cor orders softly, and Noctis is already drifting off, barely able to keep his eyes open. "I'll keep watch."

He tries to get out _that's not fair, you have to sleep too, _but he can barely get his mouth to move as he sinks deeper down. He thinks Cor gets it though, from the soft little huff of amusement that comes before Noctis falls asleep.

But then, Cor's good like that.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Is the little Meowster up yet?"

"Not yet. Whatever he's come down with, it's not letting go easily."

"I brought some broth, in case the kitten gets hungry later. If I'd known he was going to be like this, I'd have made him something softer earlier."

"The only soft thing you've given him is your heart, Chef."

"Nyah, that's what mew think! Soon as the boy's back on his feet, I want to see him back on those missions to bulk up the Canteen!"

Cor withholds a snort. He's been here long enough to know how Jun likes to pretend to be meaner than he is. The old tomcat's got a soft spot for strays, but an even softer spot for those who work hard, and try to take care of everyone else. It's why he runs the Canteen - someone has to feed and care for the caretakers.

"Are Zell and Lilliana truly so useless that they can't gather the items?" he asks, nonchalant. He's heard the murmurings between the Third and the First leaders - the boy muttering to his grandfather _"you're putting too much on him, old man. Let him breathe." _

And the Commander would, except there are so many things that need doing, and not enough Hunters qualified for the jobs. They graduate early at the Academy, and then immediately press on. There's no time to breathe, not when every camp they put up is in danger of being torn down. 

They love Noctis here at Astera. Cor loves him too, enough to kill those useless brats calling themselves A-listers, who spend most of the time dithering around at camp, or taking small, useless quests for the Research Guild. Quests that do nothing to provide them information on anything except what they already know.

Nothing like what Noctis does. Noctis spreads his wings and flies to new lands, old lands, takes down monsters and brings back information and parts galore. He's got scars, and he's earned every single one. Cor knows he'll go far - and when it eventually comes time for him to go back to Insomnia, he'll be a magnificent King.

Regis would be proud too, if he could be here to witness it.

"Mew, you know those two. Zell loves talking more than doing and Lilliana is better suited to research than getting her hands dirty." Jun sits down opposite him and Cor can feel the Palico's eye on Noctis. Cor can't begin to imagine what he looks like - he sounded like he was dying earlier, or close to it. He doesn't smell as heavy with sickness anymore, but that might be because Cor's cracked the window.

"I don't give a damn. Noctis has been pulling far more than his fair share of the weight these past two weeks. The Commander agrees - put those two on the tasks for the Canteen, and the Research guild as well. Anyone else can go through me if they need something so badly."

"You're getting paw-fully upset about this."

"I watched my godson stagger his way through taking down a fully-grown Anjanath because those two refused to pull their fucking weight, and the rest of the Hunters are no better. Half of them spend their time eating, wandering around base, pulling some minor culling, or going off on explorations where they bring back nothing. It's time they understood that being a Hunter doesn't mean you go off and do whatever the fuck you want."

He's been waiting for an excuse to bring the Fifth to heel for some time. And now he's got it - the Commander has all but given him the go-ahead. With Noctis out, they'll have no one to rely on. And the big beasts won't wait for their hunter to get back on his feet. They'll bring trouble out for the baby Hunters to deal with. 

Jun chuckles, a deep rasp just this side of a growl. "And here I was thinking the kitten had you finally going soft."

"Soft? Certainly. But that doesn't mean I've gone stupid. Noctis has earned this softness - the others haven't even begun to earn a trickle of it."

"Then go remind them of who held the line before N-_yeo-_ctis's arrival. I'll keep watch on the kitten while you go p-urr-t the fear of the Star in them."

"My thanks, Jun. It won't take long."

"Of that, I've no doubt."

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The next time Noctis wakes up, the sun is shining, his head no longer hurts, his stomach isn't pitching a fit, and Cor is once again on the bed beside his own, bone helmet back on, this time reading a book.

"Awake, I see. How are you feeling?"

"Loads better," Noctis says, stretching. His body aches, but that's something he's gotten used to whenever he's fallen sick. "How long was I out?"

"About a week. We kept you hydrated, and you woke up every so often to use the bathroom, but apart from that you were the perfect patient. Even Jun thinks so."

"Jun?"

"The Chef."

"Ah." He rubs a hand across his cheek, and grimaces as it comes away feeling oily. "Right. Uh, can I use your shower?"

"Be my guest."

The shower feels like heaven, and so do the fresh clothes. The only thing that makes it better is emerging from the shower to find a drape of crimson across his bed, and realizing what he's looking at.

"What--" He stares. "I-I didn't...How--"

"I took care of a few things while you were asleep," Cor answers calmly. "It's tradition that your first large kill be made into armor. The Commander did it for me when I arrived, so I thought it appropriate to do yours while you were conscious."

"But I didn't carve up this much!" Almost feeling like he's doing something forbidden, Noctis gingerly reaches out for the helmet; even cut up, the scales feel much the same as they did slamming up against his body full force as the Anjanath charged him. The only soft bit is the little tuft of mane coming out of the back of the helmet, making it remniscent of the helmet of a knight. "Maybe enough for this right here, but not all _this. _Not a full set."

A full set of Anjanath armor would probably take him six or seven beasts, carefully carved, with every bone or bit of crest broken along the way. 

"Like I said," Cor answers. "I took care of a few things. Are you going to try it on, or am I going to have to hold you down and do it for you?"

He hastily reaches for the undershirt for the mail before Cor can follow through on his threat. He hesitates briefly before tugging on the chest plate; he swears he can feel the inner heat still locked in the skin, threatening to erupt in the form of fire at any time. The coil isn't much better, for all that it doesn't lock against his skin to chafe like he expects. The vambraces and greaves fit snugly, but are not overly tight. The helm he debates putting on, and finally shrugs at himself and carefully undoes the clasp in the back, sliding it on. 

For a moment, there's nothing but darkness as the helmet comes down over his head. No air to breathe, no room to move. Then there's slivers of light poking through, and he can see the room, smell the fresh air. It isn't suffocating like he expects, or overly hot. He gets the clasp closed, the collar up and buttoned over the edge to hide the seam, and then walks to the mirror and looks.

The Hunter looking back at him could easily be an A-lister, or someone of Cor's own caliber. Nobody knows who this person is, dressed in the red of an Anjanath, only that they have slain enough of the beasts to dress in their skin, and have the skills to keep themselves safe enough to wear it proudly without fear. 

He doesn't recognize himself, but isn't that the point? To be utterly anonymous, like the Huntsman, or like Cor himself, who dresses in the skulls of his kill and blends in more with the monsters on the field than the people at camp. 

"How does it feel?" Cor asks, softly. "Is it too tight anywhere? Can you breathe in it?"

"Good, yes, and yes," Noctis answers, equally soft. His voice comes out a little distorted, but those who know him will still recognize it. He feels along the edge of the visor until he finds the lip, and then lifts it. A gust of cool air hits his face. "You didn't need to go through all this trouble just for me."

"It's proper," Cor answers, tucking his book away. "You've more than earned it. And quite frankly, I was getting tired of waiting for you to pick something to make already. That skin will keep you safe from most of the monsters in the Highlands, and the weapon in turn will hurt them more than most. They hate fire."

"Most people do."

"Most creatures do, as well. Here."

Out of the closet, sitting beside Cor's katana, a bow of pure bone. It's thick, thicker than any bow Noctis has seen made before, but it's light as a feather in his hand, and when he goes to fold it up, it goes neatly. There's no struggle, no fight to it. It feels as natural as any bow before. 

"The Second Fleet is currently finishing up the quiver pouch now," Cor tells him. "The first one wasn't good enough by the Fleet Master's opinion. So he took it in the back to work on it."

"When was this?"

"Six hours ago. He should be done by now, and if he's not, I'm putting my foot up his ass for taking so damned long."

"This is..." There's no single word to describe it. No simple sentence, either. What Cor's chosen to do for him with this is... weighty. Very weighty. "It's too much. I killed one creature--"

"You killed a Queen, Noctis. Why do you think it took so much for her to finally die? For her to stop struggling, stop leading you on charge after charge? They didn't just send you after an Anjanath; they sent you after the Queen of the area. And now the young ones will fight for the position, and in a hundred or so years there will be another Queen, and someone else in your shoes."

Noctis feels a chill go down his spine. Cor's never lied to him before, but... "They sent me after a Queen? Without telling me?"

"If they'd told you she was a Queen ranked monster, would you have gone after her?"

He pauses, the word _yes, of course, _on the tip of his tongue. Normally, any monster can be bested, given the right equipment. But Kings and Queens are monsters that have lived longer lives than most, have brooded more clusters than any other monster. They're creatures that have outlived, out-fought, and out-bred every other creature in their own type. Queen Anjanath are rare, because the Hunters aren't supposed to let them get that far. They're not supposed to let _any_ creature get that far, because even a King Jargas is dangerous compared to an ordinary one.

But now, thinking on it, it makes sense. Nobody would go after a Queen. It's practically suicide. But sending him after an Anjanath blocking their path? Putting their camp in danger? Noctis would go after that. And he's only one Hunter out of half a dozen. If he'd died, it wouldn't have affected them too badly. 

Suddenly, he's starting to see a lot more from Cor's perspective. This isn't some consolatory pat on the shoulder for slaying an ordinary monster. This is Cor christening him with a crown of his own sort, for something that he _deserves._

"No," he says, when he realizes Cor is still waiting for an answer. "I wouldn't have, because you taught me better."

"Good," Cor says, and reaches over to grasp a shoulder, and steer him towards the door. "Then that means I've done my job. Now, let's go see about getting you a quiver and some arrows for that bow of yours."


End file.
